William opened the door and sagged visibly as the two detectives traded surprised looks.

"Carl Dortman here?"

"Who is it, dear?" The voice drifted across the large room and Carl appeared in the entrance behind William, his satin robe suddenly clutched tightly about his body.

"It's the police, sweetums," Jerry mimed, as he slid William a sly glance and walked past him into the huge livingroom. "Jesus! Look at this view and the piano! Christ, a pink piano!"

"It's rose..." Carl tied his robe and found refuge in the corner of the sofa.

"Permission to come aboard," Jerry said as he flopped onto the far end of the same massive sofa and sank into the glove soft leather.

"M-may I ask just what you gentlemen want?" William went and stood behind Carl, both hands jammed into his lounging pant pockets.

Out came the Bettmeir notebook and he flipped through several pages before pausing and folding the sheets over the spine and reading intently.

"You would be, William...?"

"Partiger. Mister Dortman and I share this apartment."

"Sweet." Jerry.

Bettmeir turned his attention to Carl. "Roger Cullen. We know you knew him, Mister Dortman. We also know you knew him by his alias, Don Tell."

Jerry snickered.

"While you were meeting Roger Cullen at the address on Melrose, did he ever mentio—"

"I never saw him at that address."

"Sorry. Where did you two meet?"

William stepped back aghast. His hands flew up to his mouth and he looked at Carl in shock. "You- you were seeing Roger!"

Carl spun on the sofa, his robe exposing a pale leg. "William, it's not what you—

"He said it was just me!"

The three men gaped, stunned. William was pacing back and forth, ramming his hands through his hair and stifling the beginning of a wail. Carl looked at Bettmeir with fright and confusion. Bettmeir looked at Jerry blankly and Jerry rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet, blowing out a noisy breath.

"William what are you—"

"He swore it was just me! You- you were cheating..."

"Me! You've just admitted being with Roger!" Carl recovered his aplomb enough to turn indignant at the accusation. "You're the cheat, William, and after I've given you the best—"

"Oh please! Have your fairy fight later," Jerry interrupted, crossing to William and blocking his pacing. "When did you see Roger Cullen last?"

William stuttered his answer and then returned to his tirade against Carl.

"Enough, goddamit! Sit down. Right there." Jerry shoved William down onto the sofa and stood towering over him.

"He lied to me," William said petulantly.

"Oh grow up, William." Carl changed from meek to dominant, and with a visible intake of courage, he jutted a challenging chin at the detective.

"You wanted to know if he mentioned something?"

"Rita Cornell." Bettmeir read his notes. "Maybe by the name, Hatti Ambrose."

"She was his- his protégé. Some thought they were an item but Roger, in spite of his public actions, was a dues paying member of our fraternity."

"He was queer?" Jerry.

"If you insist."

"What did he say about her?"

"Nothing much. We joked about how he was charming her along and enjoying the occasional slide into that other lifestyle."

"Nicely put." A sarcastic Jerry.

"Where did she live?"

"Sometimes with Roger but usually she stayed at a hotel I think."

"A hotel? What for?"

"You'll have to ask her that, detective."

"You know the name?"

"Enterprise, I think. It's downtown."

Bettmeir made his notes, closed his book and smiled. "Thanks, Mister Dortman, you've been most helpful."

"I wish I could say the same." He cast a doleful eye at William, who was sinking lower in the leather sofa, his eyes glazed and fixed on nothing in particular.

"Yeah, well, good luck with that." Jerry walked around the sofa and headed for the door.

"I treasure your concern." Carl stood and watched them leave.

************

"Ambrose." Jerry leaned menacingly on the front desk of the hotel, glaring at the clerk.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing in the system under that name."

"Cornell."

"Who is this woman?" The clerk asked as he punched the keys. "Everybody asks the same questions and gets the same results. He spun the screen around to show there was no record of a Cornell.

"Who asks the same questions?" Bettmeir dug out his notebook.

"Some guy was in here a while ago asking for the same names."

"When?"

"Uh, It was around the time of that suicide. I remember because we were wondering at first if it might have been this mystery woman."

"Why would you wonder that?"

"The guy that was asking, he was- I thought he might have been a cop at first but he just left when we couldn't find her name in here. He didn't- well it's what I thought anyway."

Bettmeir pulled out the photograph of Rita Cornell and showed it to him. "Recognize her?" He was slow to say no and Bettmeir held it closer. "Something familiar?"

"Ye-a-h... different hair and eye colour but that looks a lot like uh... Travis. That's it, Jean Travis." He punched the keyboard and grinned. "Room eight-ten."

"You remember all your guests by name?" Jerry straightened up and frowned.

"Guests like her, I do." The grin expanded as the detectives walked toward the elevator.

"Another alias? What do make of that?"

"We'll soon see." They rode the elevator to the eighth floor and found the room quickly.

The clerk was not very happy to being ordered to open the room and he whined and complained all the way up and into the suite.

"I could lose my position doing this."

"Think of it as a public service." Jerry checked each room and came back, shrugging.

"We're going to need a little time here... what's your name, son?"

"Arthur. Arthur Rice."

"Okay, Arthur. We have to look around a bit so why don't I just buzz the desk when we're done and you can come up and make sure all's well and lock up again."

"But-"

"Thanks, Arthur." Jerry eased him out of the room and closed the door.

The search revealed very little except remnants of hair colouring packages and a few scribbled notations on the room telephone pad including an address.

"Before we go, I want a full description of this broad and the guy he said was asking before. I'm getting a gut feeling about this."

"Try a Tums."

"Cute, Jer."

"Theory time. Wanna hear?"

"As long as we keep moving; I don't want to sit around any longer on this."

"This Jean Travis is Rita Cornell and Hatti Ambrose and maybe half a dozen others we don't know about but regardless, I think she's on the run. I think she'd already hit on Chester, that's why he blew his heart and when that happened the Gates woman took up his cause and instead of exposing the blackmail, she got herself whacked. This Jean Travis is our killer."

"We were with Hargrave when his heart blew, as you so delicately put it."

"Doesn't mean he didn't hear from her first."

Bettmeir waved his hand doubtfully. "What about Cullen? Why would she kill him? They were in it together."

"Maybe he got greedy?"

"Needs work, Jer... a lot of work." They approached the desk and questioned Arthur again, getting a pretty clear description of both Jared Weiss as the man asking after Rita and her new persona, Jean Travis.

"Got another theory, Jer? Seems Rita might have been in danger herself instead of endangering others."

Jerry grumped all the way to the car. "Let's find that address we found on the phone book; it's a bar... uh, Grady's or Gordie's or somethin'."

"That's way back down in the three-five. Shit, there goes another lunch."

"Every minute of the day is lunchtime for you."

"Just drive."

Grady's bartender listened politely and then confirmed the description of Jean Travis as one of the women sharing a booth at the back the other night.

"She looked like she was recovering from some bruising." He pointed to his lips and eyes.

"Who was the other one?"

"A good looker. Dark hair about yea long," he held his hand below his ear. "Eyes like a cat... grey and yellow."

"Two different colours!"

"No-o-o, a mix. Very nice."

"Did they leave together?"

"Nope. Kissy kissed the air and split separately."

Jerry dropped his card on the bar. "Anything else, you call."

Bettmeir drummed the steering wheel. "Doesn't sound very scared to me. Havin' drinks and meeting people."

"Theory time."

"Whatever."

Jared Weiss tracked down Rita, found out she had tried to blackmail Chester, went to Chester's place and found Elora Gates. They argued and he tossed her off the balcony."

"Why did he leave Rita alive and knock of the victim's girlfriend? Why would he even go there?" Jerry stared at his partner, wishing he had a glib answer but failing. Instead, he sighed and leaned against the door. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah... me too. What do you feel like?" Bettmeir started the car and pulled into traffic.

"Lithuanian."

"Right... Chinese it is."